


The Best Medicine

by Brief_and_Dreamy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little bit of angst, Angst, Bets & Wagers, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Laughter, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Switching, Tickling, Top Draco Malfoy, implied Top Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 19:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brief_and_Dreamy/pseuds/Brief_and_Dreamy
Summary: Draco loves Potter's laugh. This somehow leads to sex, then discussions of the past, then more sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Brightowl is the best beta. Seriously. She's amazing, and I adore her and her little dog too.

Potter should shut up. He really should shut the fuck up. If Potter didn't shut up soon, Draco was going to go over there and make him. As Pansy and Theo were absorbed in conversation, Draco risked a glance across the pub to the table of Gryffindors and watched Potter laugh. Head thrown back, Potter smacked his palm against the table, making even more noise. Nothing could possibly be that funny, especially anything said by Weasley. 

Draco snatched up his vodka and took a healthy swallow. Potter laughed again and Draco clenched his jaw. There was so much raw joy in the sound, pure abandonment. It spiralled down Draco's spine and set a fire going in his belly. He couldn't block it out, so every single time Potter laughed–which was often–he had to deal with a fresh wave of heat and desire. He hated it. Why should it be Potter's laugh of all things that made him feel like a potions addict who'd gone too long without a fix? 

Draco had been a squirmy child. His mother had done her best to put an end to it, reminding him that young gentlemen needed to know how to sit patiently and with grace. Wanting her approval, and the absence of his father's disapproval, Draco had learned to will himself still. He forced his posture and mannerisms into the appropriate mould. Straight back, chin up, still as a statue. As an adult, Draco never struck a pose without orchestrating every detail. He understood the power of presentation and kept his limbs and features under strict control. Deep inside, however, the need to squirm remained, rippling through his muscles like an itch. And Potter's laugh brought that itch out in full force. It took all of Draco's will not to twitch and fidget.

He took another drink and resolved to concentrate on his friends. Pansy was telling a riveting story about something or another. Theo interrupted her periodically with a sarcastic comment. Blaise made eyes at the barman and got free drinks for his efforts, which was not remotely right or fair. Draco tried to tune into what Pansy was saying, to contain his attention to his own little group. But Potter laughed at something else and before he could stop himself, Draco looked over his shoulder and glared.

Glared right into Potter's eyes. The git was looking back at him. Potter's amusement slid away and he creased his brow. They stayed like that for a moment, caught in each other's gazes. Then Potter mouthed something at him. Draco couldn't tell what. It was probably drivel anyway. He turned back to his friends and swallowed another drink of vodka.

'Then she pulls out this sash,' said Pansy. 'Ugliest thing you've seen in your life. She said it was canary yellow, but it was clearly mustard, putting it nicely, and clotted sulphur if we're being honest. And French silk my pink arse. You won't believe what she wanted to wear it with.'

'Don't tell me,' said Theo, chin resting on his palm. 'I don't think I could handle the shock.'

'Deep purple robes!' said Pansy, eyes wide with outrage. 'Can you imagine?'

Each of Draco's three friends looked up at once. Pansy stopped talking. Draco could feel the warmth of someone standing behind him. Potter. Draco smelt his mossy cologne and the musty sweat beneath it. He crossed his legs, not knowing what to do with himself. He lifted his glass, capturing Potter's warped reflection in it. 

Potter said nothing, just stood there with his hands in his pockets, hair sticking up like a hedgehog, one eyebrow raised. Heat prickled up the back of Draco's neck, but he restrained himself from showing any awareness of Potter's presence. Finally Potter cleared his throat. Draco turned to him in time to catch his eyes roll. 

'Potter,' he said, then looked him up and down, before curling his lip. 'Are you going to speak or just lurk. You do enjoy a good, lurk, I'm aware, but you see here, today, it's just terribly annoying. More so than usual. So if there's something I can help you with, spit it out so we can move towards the end of this interaction as soon as possible.'

Potter gave him a thin smile as if he were repressing a bigger one. 'Fair enough. I just thought you might want to explain what all the staring's about.'

Bugger. He'd thought he'd been subtle. He creased his brow, trying to look perturbed. 'Staring? Have you been staring at me, Potter? I'm afraid I haven't noticed.'

Looking even more amused, Potter said, 'No. I meant you.' He pointed at Draco. 'Staring at me.' He pointed to his chest. 'You've been doing it all night and I want to know what it's about. If you're planning on hexing me or listening in on my conversation to see what you can sell to Rita Skeeter, I'd like to have a heads up.'

Draco had been so used to thinking of Potter as unobservant. Oblivious, really. Could he have been wrong about that? He hadn't expected him to notice the staring. Not that he had been staring. 

'I have not been staring.' Draco let his lip curl more dramatically. 'It's possible I may have looked your way at some point. You have a rather loud laugh, reminds me of congested erumpent, and when one's being deafened one generally searches out the cause. A casual glance or two does not count as staring.' He glanced at his friends, expecting them to share his outrage at Potter's accusation. He was sorely disappointed. 

Pansy turned away, her lower lip caught in her teeth. Theo just smirked and said, 'Casual glances take seconds, not minutes, Draco. I'm afraid Potter's caught you out.' Blaise said, 'You were staring. We all saw you staring. You should go ahead and admit it, because you're starting to look like a bit of a dick.'

Potter laughed.

'Must you?' said Draco, trying not to shudder.

'Look,' said Potter, frowning now. 'Stop the staring. It's… It's creepy.'

Draco was about to lose his mind, and Potter looked so fucking collected. It was time to put an end to that. He gave Potter an insinuating smile. 'Oh,' he said, attempting an air of nonchalance while simultaneously looking Potter directly in the eye. 'That would be because I was wondering what it would be like to fuck you.'

Potter narrowed his eyes as if he hadn't understood. Then the realisation hit him, as evidenced by red flush that swept across his pale skin. He took a step back.

Bullseye. 

'Are you as noisy during sex as you are in the pub?' Draco continued. 'Because that would be a bit off-putting. I could put my hand over your mouth, I suppose.' He sighed then flapped a dismissive hand in Potter's direction. 'Never mind. It was just a thought.'

The spectacle of Potter trying to maintain his composure was enormously entertaining. His eyelashes fluttered. He opened his mouth to speak, but then didn't. He face grew even redder. Scowling, he turned away and stomped back towards his friends. The Granger girl's eyes widened when she caught his expression. Weasley shot Draco a death glare across the pub. Draco gave him a grin and a little wave. 

'Now that's not going to come back to haunt you,' said Theo. 

'Honestly, Draco,' said Blaise. 'Sometimes you're as subtle a randy hippogriff.'

'Just ignore them, darling,' said Pansy. 'Your crush on Potter isn't any of their business.'

Draco ground his teeth, thinking nostalgically of Goyle and how he never pointed out any of Draco's weaknesses. He really needed to find better friends.

***

Two in the morning and Draco could do nothing but stare at the shadows filling the underside of his bed canopy and wish to god vodka didn't make him run at the mouth, so. 

'That would be because I was thinking what it would be like to fuck you.'

He hadn't really said that. Had he said that? To Potter? He'd said that to Potter? Was Draco out of his fucking mind? 

Because, yeah. Subtle. Really fucking subtle. Draco thought of all the alternative explanations he could have given for the staring: _There was a billywig hovering near your ear. I was checking to see if your head had expanded any further since the last time I saw you. Was I not meant to be staring? I thought it was obligatory given you're the fucking saviour and all. What a relief. I won't have to be assaulted with your ridiculous face any further now._

But no. Draco had basically told Potter he wanted to have sex with him. In front of everyone. He'd never be able to show his face in the pub again. Potter's embarrassed reaction in the moment meant nothing. He _knew_ now. He knew that Draco wanted him. That he'd thought about him. What Potter might sound like. What he might look like. Would he lie still or would he writhe? Draco suspected he'd writhe. Would he be sweet? Or would he scratch and bite? The later would be better in that case, too. And now Draco was not only humiliated, but he was hard. 

He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, then rutted gently against the mattress. It had finally happened, just like he always knew it would. Potter had driven him completely mad.

***

He was damned if that would keep him from going to the pub with his friends. Well, his "friends". Draco had a right. He wasn't going to let Potter stop him. If it came down to it, he'd march right up to Potter and tells him so. Right in his face. Draco would do it.

Pansy, Blaise and Theo were already seated. Pansy raised her arm in the air, smiling, and waved at him. In order to reach their table, he had to squeeze by the table full of Gryffindors (and one Ravenclaw, if you wanted to get technical). They didn’t seem to have spotted him, so he decided to make it quick, eyes up, chin raised. Weasley and his goddamn long legs, there was hardly any space. Draco squished himself against the wall and forced his way past. He heard Potter stop talking mid-sentence. It took all his willpower not to check Potter's expression. By the time he got to the Slytherin table, that will power was all used up. He glanced. Potter, red-faced, was peeking at him over his shoulder. When he clocked Draco noticing, he spun to face his friends again. 

So. It was just as awkward for Potter as it was for Draco. Thank Merlin. Draco was going to concentrate on his friends tonight. He wasn't going to even think about Potter. 

'Potter's staring at you,' said Pansy, grinning like a cat.

'What's it to me?' He stole her gin and tonic and took a gulp. She squealed with outrage.

Theo wrenched the drink away from Draco, gave it back to Pansy and said, 'Can we please have one night of conversation that doesn't end up revolving around Potter the Disarmer?' 

'Seconded,' said Blaise. 

'I'm not the one who brought him up,' said Draco. He realised he was pouting and stopped himself. 

Blaise started talking about his latest step-father's castle in Brazil. It was rather interesting. A magical menagerie resided in the grounds, including an actual, living manticore. Blaise's mother had developed a relationship with the creature. It wouldn't be long, Draco pondered, until she was a widow again. He hoped Blaise invited them all to holiday in the castle, it sounded marvellous.

The evening progressed and the pub grew more crowded. Every so often, Draco took a moment to congratulate himself on not thinking about Potter. Once the tables filled, they blocked his view of him anyway. Well, not his view. He wasn't looking so the view was neither here nor there. 

‘Your round, Draco,’ said Theo.

Blast, it was. No getting out of it. With a loud justifiable and not remotely dramatic sigh, Draco rose from his chair and took his friends’ orders. Another G and T for Pans, meade for Theo, and, Salazar’s tits, a glass of red wine for Blaise that cost thirty galleons a bottle and was only sold by the bottle. Pressing his lips together, Draco resolved that once it was Blaise’s round he’d request hors d'âge Cognac, which went for more than that for a single glass.

He cringed at the throng blocking the bar. He’d have to force his way through. The days when a crowd would part for a Malfoy were over, sadly. Draco still had his elbows, though, which he’d been reliably informed were rather pointy. Ignoring the glares and complaints, Draco jabbed his way to the front of the scrum. The barman who’d been flirting with Blaise was on, so Draco decided to try his luck. He rested his chin on his hand and threw him a come-hither look. The barman gave him a glance, then blanked him. Draco’s face heated and he took several deep breaths to calm his fury. The man was absorbed in speaking to someone else further down. Draco couldn’t see who as they were blocked by the crowd.

Drumming his fingers against the bar, he waited, becoming more and more irritated each time someone jostled him. The bar needed to hire more staff, this was ridiculous. Why did Draco and his friends even come here? Finally his patience bottomed out and he cast a surreptitious Confundus Charm on the woman next to him. He shoved her out of the way and sidled closer to the barman. And found himself standing next to Potter, who had the barman’s undivided attention. Of course. Of course it was Potter.

Potter wore a stiff smile. The barman jabbered at him, something about Quidditch, clearly enthralled by the idea of being in the Chosen One’s eye line. Every other sentence Potter would try to interrupt him. ‘Look, yes. Ha ha. Could I get a– Okay. Can I order–’ He clocked Draco and went bright red. Draco smirked.

No wonder the bar was so crowded. Draco huffed and raised his voice. ‘Yes, it’s Harry Potter, very exciting, but some of us would like to order drinks before the sun rises. This is a bar afterall. And you’re the barman. Yes? Are you going to do your bloody job or should we give it up and take oaths of sobriety while we wait for you to finish flirting?’

Narrowing his eyes, Potter said, ‘You don’t have to be an absolute dick about everything, you know. Wait, you’re Draco Malfoy. You don’t know that.’

‘I do what works, Potter.’ The crowd surged and shoved them closer together. Potter’s eyes widened; he leant away. He looked… What did that expression mean? They were close enough that Draco heard his breathing speed up. Potter’s eyes darted across Draco’s face. Curious, Draco moved even closer. He held their position and Potter’s gaze, waiting to see what would happen. ‘If being an absolute dick gets me what I want,’ he said in a low, silky voice. ‘I’m perfectly happy to be the most enormous throbbing dick possible.’ 

Potter stopped breathing altogether. His eyes shone hot and dark. Draco swallowed, trying to keep up his facade of calm. He wanted to grab Potter by the back of his neck and bite him. 

‘You should watch your mouth,’ said Potter in a rough whisper. 

Draco brushed his knee against Potter’s thigh. Potter let him. ‘Is it going to get me into trouble?’

‘That what you want?’ 

‘I already told you what I want.’

Potter’s lips parted and he shivered. 

Draco flexed his hands. He could grab Potter by the waist. Dig in his fingers.

A looming figure appeared at Potter’s side, shattering the tension. ‘Oi, Harry! You drinking everything on your own or what?’

Draco swore. 

Potter held Draco’s gaze for one more second, then turned to Weasley. ‘Sorry! It’s taking forever tonight.’

Weasley looked at Draco as if he were a blast-ended skrewt. ‘What’s Malfoy after?’

Draco outdid him by looking back as if Weasley were a flobberworm.

‘Nothing,’ said Potter. ‘He’s just being an aggravating git as usual.’

The barman arrived with drinks. Potter’s, not Draco’s. As soon as Potter and Weasley slipped away through the crowd, the bartender turned his back to Draco and kept it that way. Draco barely noticed. He stumbled back to the table and fell into his chair. Had that actually happened? Potter… Draco hadn’t imagined it. The urge to turn around and look at Potter beat hard in his temples. He resisted. He gripped the edge of the table to hold himself in place.

‘Draco?’ said Pansy.

‘Forget something?’ asked Theo. 

‘It was Potter,’ said Blaise with a heavy sigh. ‘He’s scrambled Draco’s brains again.’

‘You want a thirty galleon glass of wine, you can bloody get it yourself,’ said Draco. He didn’t turn. He didn’t look. 

Grumbling, Blaise made his way to the bar and was served instantly. 

Draco was a grown up. He was in control of his choices. He wouldn’t give in. 

A vodka tonic slammed down on the table in front of him; most of it splashed onto the table. Draco stared at it. Then he turned around and looked at Potter.

Potter was staring back. 

***

Nothing about the evening improved the quality of Draco’s sleep. 

Had he imagined it? That look in Potter’s eyes. He hadn’t. He was sure of it. But maybe he had. Maybe what looked like desire to Draco was actually just Potter being his usual mental self. Some kind of brain fever, like when he’d had those fainting spells back at school. Draco shouldn’t let himself get carried away. The idea that Potter could want… No. It was impossible. Draco’d let his imagination run wild.

He got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom, where he stared at himself in the mirror. His hair hung bed-mussed about his face. Thin, pointy, pale. Not that those were bad things, quite the opposite rather. Draco was well aware that he presented as the epitome of pureblood aristocracy. It was intentional, something he’d been taught, something he maintained even now in his pyjamas with dark circles under eyes. He lifted his chin. Cold. Haughty. What was there to want, if you were Potter? 

Potter was heat and spontaneity. Blood and muscle. Bubbling, unrestrained emotion. Draco closed his eyes and bit his lip. Potter liked rough and tumble redheads. People with no manners or culture. People who’d fought against Voldemort rather than for him.

But that look when their eyes locked. The way Potter shivered when Draco spoke to him. Draco rubbed at his face. He hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t. He drank a glass of water then stumbled back to bed. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of fire, unsure whether he wanted to fly away screaming or jump right into it. 

***

The next time Draco went to the pub, he avoided having to squeeze by the Gryffindor table by going the long way around along the opposite wall. He sat with his back to Potter and listened carefully to everything his friends said, desperately clinging to their words as a distraction. His unusual solicitude made Theo suspicious, but Draco ignored his pointed looks and repeated pokes to the shoulder. 

When the bell rang indicating that it would soon be closing time, Draco was one overpriced cognac and several vodka tonics the better. Several meaning four. Which was enough to require him to pay close attention to his feet as he made his way down the rickety flight of stairs to the toilets. 

He passed the wine cellar and noted that it could do with a bit of dusting. The recent House-Elf legislation was a travesty. Potter's Muggleborn's doing, Draco was sure. He buzzed with a lovely calm as he pissed, pleased with himself. He was perfectly capable of having a good time without Potter interfering at all. 

The stairs creaked as someone approached, thumping down the stairs much faster than could be safe. Draco washed his hands. The taps could use a good cleaning too. He found the corridor outside empty, which was strange. Then, as he passed the wine cellar again, someone grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. 

A hand slapped over his lips muffled his shriek as someone slammed him against a wall. The door banged shut. Terrified, Draco struggled to reach his wand, but then he saw who had him. Potter. Just Potter. Green eyes boring into his through those glasses. Body heat and mossy cologne. Draco didn't so much relax as settle into a different sort of excitement.

Potter had Draco trapped against the wall, one arm on either side of his shoulders. Draco might have been slightly taller, but the intensity of Potter's expression made any height difference irrelevant. Draco swallowed and tried not to show his discomfiture. 'Problem, Potter?'

'You could say that.' He leant closer and Draco held his breath. 'You've got a big mouth, Malfoy.'

'Have I?' He forced a smirk. 'No one's ever said.'

'You know you do.'

Was Potter angry? He certainly seemed agitated. But Draco hadn't done anything, at least not that evening. He widened his eyes, trying to look innocent. 'If you're referring to my comment the other day, even someone as treacle-brained as you must realise it was a only a joke.'

'Was it?' Potter's gaze moved between Draco's eyes to his mouth and back again. His skin grew flushed, but in a sprinkle of pink across his cheeks rather than the bright red map that had covered his entire face when Draco had shocked him. So close, his body heat insistent, making Draco start to perspire. 'What are you doing?' he whispered.

'I'm wondering whether or not I want to kiss you.'

A wave of heat rushed across Draco's skin. 'Oh,' he said, trying to catch his breath. 'Let me know when you've reached a decision.'

Looking pained, Potter leant closer. 'I never… You’re not…’ He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘It’s _you_. But now you've put this idea in my head and I can't get it out.'

'Ever so sorry.' Potter had him trapped against the wall. He was no more than an inch away, but not quite touching. Draco's grip on his composure weakened and then evaporated. He couldn't help it. He squirmed. 

Their bodies rubbed together and Potter exhaled sharply. 'It just weird,' Potter said. 'I don’t like you.'

'You don't have to sweet talk me,' said Draco. 'I can assure you, you've already pulled.'

Potter gave a short laugh from his chest, then continued smiling. Draco licked his lips, a nervous habit he thought he'd conquered years ago. What was the word for this? That smile he'd dragged out of Potter. The way it made him dizzy as if he weren't getting enough air. The word _dazzled_ floated through his mind, and he hated himself. But that was it. Potter dazzled him.

'If I've pulled,' said Potter, his voice low and a little rough. 'We should go somewhere. Somewhere we can… Continue the pulling.'

'I'm an excellent puller,' said Draco. 'Just so you know. I wouldn’t want to shock you,' He brushed their lips together then settled back against the wall, 'with my prowess.'

'Consider me warned,' said Potter. 

The reality of what was happening hit Draco. This was impossible. He must have fallen down that safety-hazard staircase and hit his head. If that was the case, however, he didn't care. Head trauma induced hallucination or reality, he was going to enjoy this. 'Come back to mine.'

'Where's that?' asked Potter, looking wary. 

'My flat. In Mayfair. Where I live alone.' Not the Manor, my parents won't be there.

'Sounds good.'

Draco gave Potter a smile that said _I am going to eat you up_ , slid his arm around Potter's waist, and held him close. With his free hand, he pulled his wand. A tug and a crack later, then were in his bedroom. 

Blinking fast, Potter stumbled away. Once he'd recovered his bearings, he looked around. Something about the room made him smirk. Draco had no idea what it could be; his bedroom was completely normal with its antique French furniture and canopy bed. Irritated, he marched towards Potter and pushed him. He crowded him against the bed, then shoved him down on it. He held Potter down by his wrists, looming over him. Potter fought him a bit, but not like he really meant it. His expression wavered between irritation and arousal. 

'Decided whether or not you want to kiss me?' asked Draco.

'Yeah,' said Potter. 'I did.' He relaxed and lowered his eyelids. 'I do.'

'Good.' Before he could think about what was happening and panic, Draco pressed his mouth against Potter's. Potter made a soft sound, then kissed him back. They started slow and gentle, but that didn’t last long. If felt like falling down a bumpy hill, growing harder and faster, out of control. Potter wrenched his wrists free and dug his fingers into Draco's hair. They rolled to the side. The hard press of Potter's lips, the heat of his mouth, the slick flicker of his tongue–Merlin, it was just as good as Draco had imagined. He tried to push Potter onto his back again, but Potter used his legs to stop him. For a few interesting moments, they stopped kissing and just wrestled. 

Hot and violently excited, Draco shoved his hand down the back of Potter's trousers and gripped an arse cheek. Potter jerked against him, then pulled back. Panting, he looked like he was about to say something.

Draco cut him off. 'I'm going to fuck you.' He rolled his hips forward and managed to get Potter on his back again. 'I'm going to fuck you, Harry Potter.'

'Oh.' Potter arched up against him. 'You mean… Erm. So when you said what it would be like to fuck me…?'

'Well,' said Draco, voice heavy with want, 'we're both going to fuck each other.'

Potter closed his eyes and shivered, then said, 'I imagined… I thought I'd be the one…'

Of course he had. Of course Potter had thought it would go that way. Draco wasn't sure if it made him cross or if he liked it. 'You want to be inside me,' he said, just to be sure.

The red flush had returned to Potter's face. 'Yes.' Despite his embarrassment, he met Draco's gaze full on. Dark, hungry eyes. 

Draco squeezed Potter's arse. 'Have you ever been with a man before?'

'Yes,' said Potter, too quickly, a bit petulant.

'But you've never bottomed.'

'No.'

Merlin, that was interesting. Draco wondered… He didn't want to pressure Potter, but he could be very persuasive about this sort of thing. 'Shall we see how it goes?'

Potter said nothing. He just looked at Draco, chin slightly raised.

Draco slid his hand out of Potter's pants and pushed himself up on his arms. Potter probably thought he was some kind of brute. Not that Draco could blame him, after the incident in the train. But that had been years ago, before the war, before Draco had seen enough violence to last him a lifetime. 'I will absolutely not,' Draco said, 'encourage you to do anything you don't want to do with passionate enthusiasm.' He made his face look very serious.

Potter smiled. Then he laughed. The vibrations ran right through Draco's body and his eyelashes fluttered closed for a moment.

Potter misinterpreted his expression. 'Oh,' he said, his amusement vanishing. 'I forgot that you hate my laugh.'

'Oh, I don’t,' said Draco. 'I really don't.' 

'What was it you said I sound like? A congested erumpent?'

'Maybe I like congested erumpents.'

Potter raised an eyebrow, still not smiling.

The mood had flagged and Draco wasn't having it. He'd get Potter to laugh again and show him how much he enjoyed it. He cocked his head to the side, then tickled Potter under his armpit. 

Potter exploded with laughter. My God, Draco wanted him. He lowered his fingers to Potter's belly and tickled him again. Potter twisted, trying to push Draco's hand away, saying, 'You berk, you absolute idiot.' Potter arched and struggled, laughing harder. 

He was so beautiful. Draco drank him in, his joy and unselfconsciousness. Potter caught him looking and stopped, slowly, snorting and shaking a bit. He looked quizzical and Draco knew that what he'd been feeling had shown on his face. He bent to kiss Potter's neck, to distract him, to hide his expression. 'I like your laugh,' he said. 'Why do you think I kept looking over at you in the pub?'

'Thought you were planning something nefarious.' Potter shivered as Draco nuzzled behind his ear. 

'I was,' said Draco. 

Potter laughed again, softly this time. Draco bit his earlobe and he moaned a little. 'Jesus. Let's… Can we…' He sighed then tugged at the hem of Draco's shirt. 

'Yes,' said Draco. 'Let's do that.' The idea of being naked with Potter made him a bit overexcited, so he took his time removing Potter's clothes, trying to maintain control. He sucked on Potter's neck as he undid the buttons. When Draco pulled off his own shirt, Potter went still, then gave him a look laced with guilt. Draco sighed. 'You're not going to let it ruin this are you?' He put his fingers over Potter's lips when he tried to speak. 'Shhh.' When Potter's brow creased, as if he were determined to bring up ancient history and destroy the ambience, Draco did something he suspected would get him back on track. He grabbed Potter's cock through his trousers. 

Eye wide, Potter jerked. 'Careful.'

Draco moved his hand, up and down, rubbing. Potter was very hard, and felt thick and promising against Draco's palm.

'Okay,' said Potter, breathless. 'We can talk about it later.' 

Smirking, Draco started working on Potter's fly. 'Or never. Either one.'

They shrugged and wriggled out of their clothes. Draco slid his wand out of his trousers and set it on the mattress, then went to work trying to touch Potter everywhere. There was a roughness in how they moved together. Potter's fingers digging into Draco's jaw, Draco's nails scratching down his back. Potter had a lean, hard body. A bit of dark hair on his pale chest, more trailing towards his cock, which was just as luscious as Draco had hoped. He shoved Potter away and slid down. Potter propped himself on his elbows, grinning.

Draco swiped his tongue up Potter's shaft, making him gasp, and narrowed his eyes. 'You're not to enjoy this for the wrong reasons, Potter.'

'There are wrong reasons?'

'I'll do this because I like it. Not because I like the idea of kneeling at your feet.'

'Jesus, I don't care. And you're not at my feet, you’re lying half on top of me, and I swear to god, Malfoy, in this exact moment I'm the one at your mercy.'

Draco liked that. 'All right, then.' He wrapped his fingers around Potter's cock, which was red and thick and made Draco's mouth water. It pulsed in his hand and Potter shifted his hips. Draco slid down the foreskin and lapped at the head with the tip of his tongue. He squeezed gently, then gave the head another lick.

Potter whined. 'I knew you'd be the worst cock tease in history, I just knew it.'

'Do you think insulting me is likely to make me go faster?'

'No? Tell me what will then. Aside from grabbing the back of your head and forcing you down. You're not into that, are you?'

Draco took a second to collect himself. 'Not at the moment.' 

'Let me know if that changes.' Potter ran his teeth over his bottom lip and pleaded with his eyes.

It wasn't so much that Draco took pity on him, but more that he'd reached a similar level of desperation. He sucked Potter down. Potter exclaimed in surprise and then moaned, letting his head fall back. Draco sucked hard and moved slowly. He wanted a gradual build up, not a sudden explosion. He wanted Potter hot and desperate. When Potter's stomach muscles tightened and his breaths started coming short and fast, Draco pulled off. 

Groaning, Potter collapsed onto his back and covered his face with his hands. His cock bobbed, wet and shiny.

'I'm going to try something,' said Draco. 

'Okay,' said Potter in a strangled voice.

Draco went up on his knees between Potter's legs, then picked up his wand. 

Potter peeked at him through his fingers, suddenly alert, and watched Draco intently as he conjured a handful of lube. 'Look, I'm not–'

'Just wait and see.' He scanned Potter's face to see if his protest was a refusal or mere hesitancy. Potter gave a quick nod and Draco decided it was the latter.

He slicked up his fingers, then leant over Potter, supporting himself with his free hand. It wasn't going to be an easy position to maintain for long. Potter twitched when Draco brushed against his arsehole. He slid his finger in gradually, then back out again, deeper each time. Potter kept his eyes closed tight, his face immobile with tension. Draco swivelled his finger deeper until he found the right spot, then pressed gently against it. Potter inhaled–a gasp that would have sounded like alarm under other circumstances. He slit his eyes open to look at Draco and licked his lips. Perhaps it was alarm. His fingers tightened against Draco's shoulders. 

'Didn't expect that to feel good, did you?' asked Draco.

'Didn't expect any of this,' said Potter. 

Draco added a second finger and continued stimulating Potter's prostate. 'I would very much…' He paused to press his face against Potter's throat, where his pulse tapped quick and frantic against Draco's lips. 'I want to fuck you,' Draco whispered against the soft, damp skin. Potter jerked and clenched around his fingers, and Draco grinned. 'Are you going to let me fuck you?' He nuzzled Potter's neck.

'God,' said Potter. His shifted downwards, pressing Draco's fingers deeper inside him, then moaned.

'You'll like it. Look how much you love my fingers. Let me fuck you, Potter. It will be so good.'

Potter's body took on a taught, trembling tension that made Draco worry Potter was about to come. He slid his fingers out. 

'Yeah,' said Potter, relaxing a little bit. 'Okay. I must be completely mental, but… I'm curious. And… I want it. I want you to fuck me. Malfoy.' He squeezed his eyes closed and laughed. 'Fuck me, Malfoy.'

While Draco didn't know why that was so funny, he was willing to ignore Potter's amusement. Draco took his cock in his hand and slicked it up with lube. His skin tingled with excitement. Potter held onto his shoulder and looked up at him with a little bit of fear and more determination. Taking a deep breath, Draco angled himself to enter Potter and pushed forward.

Potter went rigid with concentration.

'Relax,' said Draco. 'This is for fun, remember?'

With a small smile, Potter nodded.

'Does it hurt?' asked Draco. It shouldn't. He'd prepared Potter well. That had been the point.

'No. Just strange.'

'We can stop at any time.' But for the love of Merlin, he thought, don't ask me to.

'I just need a second.'

Draco called upon everything he'd taught himself in aid of not squirming, but it wasn't easy. Sighing, Potter ran his palms up Draco's arms. Draco leant down to kiss him. He teased Potter's mouth open with his tongue and went slow, showing him that they didn't need to hurry. It worked. As Potter sunk into the kiss his body lost its tension.

'Go on,' said Potter, his voice low and rough. 'Do it.'

'You're ready?'

'Yes, yes.'

'Are you sure? Are you really sure about this, Potter?'

'If you're waiting for me to beg, you're going to be waiting a long time.'

'How long exactly? It might be worth it.'

Potter laughed and Draco kissed him. Partly because he wanted to and partly to hide his expression. Perspiration prickled at his temples and they hadn't even started fucking yet. _Please Merlin, let me last more than five minutes. Please let Potter enjoy it._

'Okay,' he said against Potter's lips. He pressed their foreheads together as he worked himself deep inside, slowly, shaking a bit. It had been a while since he'd topped. He'd forgotten how intense it felt in the first few seconds. Potter shut his eyes, breathing quickly. Draco slid his hand up his cheek and ran his thumb over the curve. Potter turned his face into the touch. 

Okay. Draco knew how to do this. He moved his hips in short, shallow thrusts, letting Potter get used to the feeling of being fucked. Draco already felt lost in it. If he found the right angle, he could– Potter's knees tightened against his hips. There. God, Potter was tight and hot and sweet. Draco resisted the urge to pound into him hard.

Eyes wide, Potter whimpered. 'God! Ah. My god.'

'I told you it would be good,' said Draco, panting as he fucked him. 'You should listen to me. I know things.'

'Yeah?'

'Lots of things.' He thrust again and Potter moaned. Draco wanted more of that. He starting moving a bit faster, marvelling at how Potter seemed to be falling completely apart. Potter's body had that delicious trembling tightness again. He gripped Draco's biceps in his hands, squeezing them harder and harder. 

'Nnn!' Potter arched his neck. 'Malfoy. Yes. Yes! That's… God! Can you? Harder, a bit harder, please, I…'

Draco stopped holding back. He fucked Potter hard and fast, carried away by how good it felt. His pleasure swelled, more intense with each thrust. So good. The mattress creaked beneath them and the bedposts rattled. Potter held on, taking it. Draco grabbed his wrists, forced them back over his head, pressed their bodies tight together. Potter became incoherent, moaning and begging, his knees drawn up tight. Draco kissed his jaw, his neck, his temple, wet and clumsy. 'You're going to come,' he gasped. 'I can feel it. I'm going to make you come.'

Potter writhed and shook, then came, back arched, clamping down around Draco's cock. 

Draco whimpered at the shock of it, then groaned at the intensity of his own orgasm twisting through his body. Oh hell. Oh god. He even felt it in his toes. Potter clenched again, and Draco let out a broken whimper. 

It took him a while to resurface. Potter started moving, trying to push him off. Not aggressively, just insistently. Draco rolled onto his back. They both lay still, letting their breathing slow down to normal.

'That was…' said Potter.

'Oh, it was,' said Draco. 'Very, extremely much so.'

He turned his head to the side. Potter did the same and they looked at each other, blinking. Draco was sure that Potter's uncertainty was mirrored in his own eyes. 

'Well,' said Potter. He gave Draco a quick kiss then sat up and looked down at his belly. 

They were both smeared with Potter's come. Draco found his wand and cast a cleaning spell. When Potter showed signs of trying to get out of bed, Draco grabbed him around the waist and wrestled him back down again. Potter laughed softly. 

'Let's just get it all straight,' said Draco, heart speeding up again. 'Was this a one-off? You're going to get dressed and leave? Because if that's what you want to do, it's fine with me. I don't mind at all. We should just make sure we both know what's going on, so it doesn't get messy or complicated.' Oh god, he couldn't stop talking. 'You probably jump into a different person's bed every other night, Boy-Who-Saved and all that. And I…' When _was_ the last time Draco had had sex? It had to have been months ago. That French boy. No, that was last year. Merlin, it had been ages. 'And I'm no wallflower either,' he lied. 'And you don't like me. Let's not forget that. And I don't like you either. Best thing would be–'

'Hush,' said Potter.

Draco shut up. He wished he could erase everything he'd just said.

'The thing is,' said, Potter looking up at Draco's canopy. 'I think I’d like to fuck you again pretty soon. And it doesn't feel like something I'll be over with quickly. I imagine I'm going to keep wanting you.'

The exclusion of 'to keep fucking' made Draco shiver. _Wanting you_ , Potter had said.

Stop that, Draco told himself. It didn’t mean anything. He slid a leg over Potter's thigh. He played with Potter's damp hair, twirling a bit around his finger. 'So tell me. What do I have to do to make you like me?'

Potter snorted. 'Erase the last ten years?'

'I wish I could,' said Draco.

Potter moved onto his side so he faced Draco. He ran his toes over the top of Draco's foot. 'Do you?'

'Some of it.' He was starting to get cold. 'What would you do differently? If you could.'

Potter took a moment to respond. He searched Draco's face. Draco didn't know what he was looking for. 'I'd learn exactly what a spell did before I used it on another person.' Draco stiffened, some strange and not entirely comfortable emotion creeping through his chest. Potter's eyes unfocused and he continued, voice softer. 'And I'd remember about the mirror.'

'Mirror?'

'Nevermind. I can't believe I'm talking about this with you. What about you? What would you change? You wouldn't break my nose, right?'

'Nah, that was fun,' Draco said and felt Potter vibrate against him as he laughed.

'You prick.'

'I never said I'd change my entire personality.' They rested in silence. Potter snuggled closer until his head was buried under Draco's chin. Draco nuzzled the top of his head. It smelled good. It smelled like Potter. 'I wouldn't have taken the Mark,' he said, voice muffled by Potter's hair. 'I'd have grabbed Mother and fled.'

'Voldemort would have found you. He found Karkaroff.'

'Well, then I wouldn't let that snake-faced piece of shit use me like a pawn. I'd figure something out.'

He'd tried, more times than he could remember, to find the perfect chain of events that would have made things different. A better choice here or there. Different words to the right person. Snape. His father. It only tangled his mind up in a ball and gave him a headache.

'I'd have gone to him sooner,' said Potter, still using that small, quiet voice. 'Before so many people died. I'd have gone to him and had Ron and Hermione handle the diadem in the Room of Requirement.'

Draco wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but the idea of Potter's absence in the Room of Hidden Things that night made him queasy. 'I'd have died if you hadn't been there. There's no chance Weasley would have come back for me.'

'You wouldn't have gone there in the first place. You were looking for me, right? To hand me over?'

'I wouldn't have. I wouldn't have gone through with it. I knew it even then. I don't know what I was thinking. I was desperate.'

'A lot of people were desperate that night.'

Potter traced his fingertips over the faint scars criss-crossing Draco's chest. Draco shivered. 'How on earth did we end up here?' Potter asked.

'You grabbed me in the pub and threatened to kiss me.'

'I only did that because you said you wanted to fuck me.'

'Fine,' Draco raised his arms above his head and stretched, arching his back. 'I accept full responsibility.'

'It's about time.'

Draco kicked him. Potter kicked him back. Draco tried to push Potter's face away with the palm of his hand and then they were wrestling again. Draco let Potter win. That was absolutely what happened. Once Potter had him pinned to the bed, he lost the will to fight. 

'Maybe I do like you a little bit,' said Potter

'What an honour.'

Grinning, Potter shook his head. 'Although you're a complete git. I must be out of my mind.'

'Well, yes. I didn't realise that was in doubt. I think I even said something along those lines to Rita Skeeter the other week.'

'You'd better be joking.'

'Of course I'm joking.' And he trusted Rita never to reveal her sources.

‘Hmm,’ said Potter, as if he didn’t believe Draco. 

How insulting. And interesting that Potter was that astute. ‘Imagine what Rita would say if she could see us now.’

Potter stiffened. ‘That’s…’ His grip on Draco’s wrists tightened. ‘That’s not what this was about, was it?’

‘No.’ Potter had a strong grip. Draco tugged at his wrists, but he was held tight. Part of him wanted to get Potter even angrier, just to see what would happen. An old instinct. But he didn’t need to piss Potter off to get his attention any more. ‘That would be rather self-defeating, wouldn’t it? Given I’m hoping to take you up on that offer of fucking me again quite soon.’

‘Right,’ said Potter, searching Draco’s face. Draco tried to look sincere, but it wasn’t an expression that came to him naturally. What he did seemed to work. ‘Okay.’ Potter grinned. ‘Speaking of fucking you again, how soon were you thinking that would happen?’

Draco was already half-hard again. He bit his lip and hummed as if thinking the question over. ‘It’s June now. July, August… I think I’ve got a free space in September.’

‘You’re funny,’ said Potter, then let go of Draco’s wrists to lean down and kiss him. ‘I like that. I like that about you.’

‘That good,’ said Draco, arching up against Potter, who thrust down against him. ‘Because I like making you laugh.’ 

‘You do?’

Draco nodded, nuzzling his nose against Potter’s jaw. 

‘I’m funny too, you know,’ said Potter. He slid his hand up Draco’s side. Gripped a handful of Draco’s hair with the other. 

Draco’s voice rose an octave without his permission. ‘I’ve always found you easy to laugh at.’ 

‘I’ll bet you. If I can get you to laugh in the next two minutes, I get to fuck you this time.’ 

Oh, that was interesting. And tricky, because Draco didn’t want to lose a bet to Potter, but at the same time he desperately wanted Potter to fuck him. Potter’s hipbones ground into his thighs. Draco spread his legs further apart. Potter tugged at his hair and he gasped. Draco tried to think. ‘No bet. Try to make me not laugh. If I do laugh, then you have to fuck me.’

Potter laughed, which was not what he was meant to be doing. ‘You’re ridiculous. You just don’t want to lose a bet to me.’

Draco had definitely underestimated Potter’s cleverness. ‘Well then. I’m waiting. Do your worst, Potter, amuse me.’

‘Didn’t say I was going to amuse you,’ said Potter, a wicked look in his eyes that made Draco freeze like a rabbit. ‘I just said I was going to make you laugh.’

‘Oh you bastar-’ said Draco and that was all he had time to say before Potter started tickling him.


End file.
